If Nothing Else
by PageBoy15
Summary: Series of Sam/Addison snapshots from the first month of med school and forward. Chapter Three: Addison hates Thanksgiving but gets a side of the bed.
1. Chapter 1

So far, medical school kind of sucks. Everyone said it was going to be tough, but he thought it was going to be the good kind of tough, the tough where he would be able to prevail and push through and put in the long hours because this is what he wants to do with his life, this is his passion. But so far all he's done is drink way too much coffee and get talked over in class by the same guys who chant jock songs on campus on the way to the bars Thursday nights so loudly that he can hear them from the little nook he's claimed for himself in the library. Sam honestly can't understand how they do it. He had a few glasses of wine with his mama when she came to visit over Columbus weekend and almost threw up the next day on a corpse.

He's beginning to think he doesn't have the drive to do this. Surgeons are supposed to be competitive, badass, jocks. He's just an overwhelmed geek who's spending way to much time hating his life and everyone in it.

Except the redhead. He doesn't hate her.

-o-

Addison, her name is. He overheard her telling it to that douchebag with the 1920's villain facial hair who Sam once saw making out with his lab partner on line at Starbucks. She has a nice smile. Also, she mouths the answer to every question the professors ask with her head ducked down over her notebook, which is adorable. He doesn't have a shot, he knows that. Still, she, Addison, sometimes seems a little lost and he likes to think that if nothing else they could be friends, because frankly he's a little lost too.

He really hopes she doesn't end up dating that guy though. There's a rumor floating around that he gave one of the associate professors gonorrhea.

-o-

"Hey, I'm sorry, is this seat taken?"

She's talking to him. He needs to say something back (something other than Hi, you look great in glasses and have really pretty hair, and I don't really know you but I think you're fantastic). "No, that… is any empty seat. You can have it if you want to, you know… have it." Great job.

"Thanks," she smiles sweetly and drops into the chair across from him. "You're in a few of my lectures, right? I'm Addison."

"Sam." He reaches across the table to shake her hand, because apparently he's fifty, and actively trying to be as pathetic as possible. He blames his all-boys high school. And, kind of, his mother.

"So," she says, amazingly not fleeing the scene but instead flipping open a textbook. "Are you starting to hate this place as much as I am?"

"The library or the world?"

"The library," Addison replies grinning. "We're trying to save the world, remember?"

"Honestly, no. I can't even remember what outside looks like."

"Oh, it's only okay. Lots of pigeons and all the buildings are _really_ tall."

They chat for a few more minutes before arriving at the mutual decision that break time is over and they bury themselves back into work. He learns that she's from Connecticut, and has an older brother wandering this campus somewhere, and is sharing an apartment with her friend Naomi who apparently is a really great cook and totally funny.

"I'm living with a guy named Hank who used my walkman to make a homemade bong," Sam deadpanned, causing Addison to snort and her glasses to slip a little down her nose.

She's adorable. And damn, but he's in it now.

-o-

"Addison!"

Sam looks up as he hears her name being called from across the room. That damn guy (Mike? Matt?) is waving her over to where he's leaning obnoxiously back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk inches away from some poor girl's breakfast. Addison shoots him a tight-lipped smile and a small wrist flick before walking over to Sam, who pulls his backpack off the sear next him (not that he was saving it or anything).

"He likes you," Sam mumbles under his breath as the professor begins to call for everyone's attention.

"Who, Mark?" Addison scoffs. "Please, he likes everyone."

"Really? So, you're not interested?"

"Interested in two magical days of lovemaking, complete with STD's and girlfights with complete strangers? Pass." She glances over and then breaks out into a smile. "Sam, you're blushing."

"Am not." He is. The lovemaking comment brought some images to mind that need to be immediately shaken off (he's a guy, alright?). "It's just…" He takes a deep breath, "In that case, maybe you'd…"

"In the back! Quiet down!" The professor barks at them, as Sam finds an entire room full of eyes turned to them. This is doing nothing for his nerves, but Addison trying to stifle giggles into her hand is helping a little.

He's liked these past few days. He's been less stressed, less anxious. He hasn't needed to leave class to take a hit of his inhaler or call home just to be sure that someone out there believes he can do this. So, although it's totally unromantic and without any charm or sex appeal…

_Maybe you'd like to go out with me_, he scribbles on the margin of his notebook and pushes it across the desk.

Her mouth drops open a little as she reads and when she turns to look at him, clearly shocked, Sam's hand clenched around the inhaler in his pocket. He's an idiot, because this is something that clearly has never crossed her mind, this is him being such a geek that he can't tell the difference between polite small talk with a study buddy and flirting.

_I can't_, Addison mouths back at him. Yeah, he figured.

-o-

"Sam! SAM!"

He's making this more embarrassing, not able to take rejection like a man, but dammit he couldn't look her for the rest of class and he doesn't want to stand and listen to her trying to figure out a nice way to put 'never in a million years.' But she catches up to him in the hall and blocks him from going up the staircase, so it doesn't look like he'll have any other option.

"This has nothing to do with you," Addison starts, and he cuts her off. That was a horrible way to start a sentence.

"It's not a big deal…"

"No, Sam." She runs a hand through her hair, looking distressed, "Fuck, that sounded incredibly lame, but it's really not about _you_, it's…. my roommate."

Sam blinks. "What?"

"My roommate, Naomi…. The really funny, smart, pretty, good cook, talented roommate that I've clearly been doing an awful job of talking up she… she really likes you. And I wasn't supposed to say that last part but I just wanted you to know… I can't go out with you because Naomi… really wants to go out with you."

"Oh." Sam blinks again. This is all very strange.

"And she's kind of shy, so I just thought if I got you to think about it, then you might… Crap." Addison sits down on the steps and drops her head in her hand. "I suck. At this. And in general."

"You're saying that… a really funny, smart, pretty, good cook, talented woman had a crush… on me."

Addison lifts her head. "She thinks you're sweet. And hot."

"Whoa." He sits down next to her, ignoring the passing students glaring at them for taking up too much room. "You don't suck."

"Sam, I'm really sorry." She looks it too. And he's sorry too because he has sisters and understands all about cardinal rules and girl code and whatnot. So, yeah, he's disappointed (except for the part of his brain that's screaming, 'it's not about _you_'). Still though… he knocks his shoulder against hers. "You got Naomi's number?"

-o-

So he asks out Naomi. Addison points her out from across the campus, and then after a helpful shove in the back disappears into the library. Naomi says yes, and she's great, really, really great. They have fun together, and she's gorgeous and confidant, and sensitive, and he likes her a lot.

A week and a half into dating, Naomi's dragging him across the quad, grinning over her shoulder when he asks what they're doing.

"I just spotted someone I want you to meet. Hold on – Addie! Over here."

She's sitting cross-legged under a tree and when she looks up at the two of them a smile flits across her face.

"Sam," Naomi announced stopping in front of her, "This is my best friend, Addison. Addie, this is… the guy I've been telling you about."

"Nice to meet you Sam," Addison says sweetly, reaching out a hand.

"Nice to meet you too Addison," he replies, shaking it, and he can't help it but he tips a little wink in her direction because, seriously, this is a little funny.

He likes to think that if nothing else, they'll be friends.


	2. Chapter 2

This is never going to work. Which Sam is okay with, he's processed and accepted it, but what he really needs to do now is convince Addison before she stops listening to him completely.

"Addison," he calls out to her over the sea of screaming children, harried mothers, and teenage hotshots zipping around like there's a scout watching from above, "This is never going to work."

"Sam," she says, "we've been here for thirty seconds. You haven't even let go of the railing."

He had actually. But then he tried pushing off with his left foot, and his right foot slid immediately out from under him and he had to make a desperate grab for the side of the rink so he wouldn't have to spend the rest of the evening explaining to Naomi why his front tooth was suddenly chipped. And Addison would have seen all this and understood perfectly _why_ this was never going to work if she hadn't been busy skating across the ice with the ease of someone who had been taking lessons from some imported Swiss professional for the past twenty years (he's not a betting man, but twenty bucks says that's not far from the truth).

"And anyway," she continues, leaning on the railing next to him and taking a break to tug her hat further down on her ears, "You're the one that said you wanted your gift to be special. And cheap."

"Books can be special," Sam grumbles. Across the ice, some four-year-old punk is sticking her tongue out at him from behind her mother's knees.

"Right. Because what every med school student wants from her boyfriend is more obligatory reading material. It's sexy, is what it is."

"You're making fun of me."

"Yes, I am," Addison agrees cheerfully. "Come on Sam trust me. Naomi loves ice-skating. And Rockefeller Center. And big romantic gestures. Now she already thinks you can't do this, but at the tree lighting next week you are going to prove her wrong. Okay?" She holds out a gloved hand, that he reluctantly takes while still keeping all his weight on the railing.

"I'm being laughed at by elementary school children."

"What else is new? Oh stop," she giggles as Sam drops her hand and turns huffily to leave, "I'll be nice from now on, promise."

"You better be," he warns, grasping her outstretched arm again and shakily pushing himself out onto the ice. "Because if I fall I'm taking you with me."

"Deal. We're going to go slow at first alright?"

"Yes please." Addison guides the two of them around the outside of the rink as Sam keeps a close eye on his feet to make sure they behave. As soon as he's somewhat confident that he won't immediately lose balance without total focus and silence he voices the concern that's been bugging him ever since Addison came up with this brilliant plan. "Are you sure she's not going to think this is geeky."

"Sam," Addison rolls her eyes, "you have got to let this go. Naomi doesn't think you're a geek."

"I know, it's just," he stumbles for a second as a tourist swooshes past them, but managed to stay standing, "Mark's getting Amy Garrison lingerie."

"Well Mark has an excellent selection to pick from under his bed. He's probably also getting her a yeast infection. Hey," she squeezes his hand to get him to look up and smiles encouragingly. "She's going to love it. And look how great you're doing!"

Sam straightens up, attempting to look strong and proud (which is hard to go when you're clutching on to a girl's hand for support, but still), "I am pretty badass."

"You are."

"Haven't fallen yet," he points out.

"You haven't!"

"So what are you getting Derek?"

"Sex. Ow!"

He falls. And, true to word, takes Addison down with him.

"You all right?" she asks, rubbing her elbow as they scoot to the side to avoid blades and further pileups. "The first fall always sucks the most."

"I think I broke my butt," he says, rescuing her hat from being sliced in two and handing it back to her. "So… you're getting Derek… sex."

"Yeah well, we haven't, you know, yet and I thought… Christmas might be… nice," she trails off, fiddling awkwardly with the poof ball in her hands, cheeks reddening behind the hair slipping over her face. "Okay, now I feel like a geek."

"You're not," he offers. It's all he's got really, sex talk with his girlfriend's best friend isn't his forte. Plus, she's not.

"I am, actually, but it's okay, so," she stands up and brushed the snow off her coat before helping him to his feet, "let's just keep skating and talk about something else, okay?"

"The last time I had to buy a Christmas present for a girl I liked," Sam says, pushing off into the crowd again, "Was in eight grade when I mailed my camp girlfriend a lanyard I never finished making her over the summer."

Addison grins at him from over her shoulder, brief moment of shyness apparently forgotten, "And did she like it?"

"No idea, never heard back." It's a silly pointless story, but he's trying to give her some perspective here. I mean _that_'sgeeky man. Addison's thing is… sweet.

"Hey Sam," he looks up to see her skating in front of him, grinning wildly and holding up two free hands, "you're not holding on anymore."

It's a pretty proud moment for him, sadly enough. For Addison too, apparently since she's practically beaming at him. "This counts as my present, right? You teaching me?"

She narrows her eyes at him a bit, "That had better not be a sex joke."

"Addison, do you honestly think I've ever made a sex joke in my life."

"Fair point. And this does actually count as your present so… Merry Christmas Sam."

"Merry Christmas Addie."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam's had it for over four months now. Since the beginning of summer really, and as much as he'd like to pretend it's about romance, and build-up and waiting for the exact right moment, that's a bunch of crap. He had the exact right moment. Hell, it was exactly right because he _planned_ it that way, made the reservations, bought the flowers, ordered the champagne. She had looked totally beautiful that night, smiling at him through candlelight from across the table and he had thought okay here it goes, here goes being a grown-up and getting the girl. Only he hadn't asked. And don't bother asking him why, because if he knew the answer to that he'd be spending this Thanksgiving ringing in the holiday with his new fiancée, not waving goodbye to her as she jumped on the train back home. Sam opted to stay in the city this year, hoping to use the time alone to figure out when he became such a fucking coward.

-o-

He's not sleeping, just staring up at the ceiling, idly plying with the ring as it sparkles even just off the dim light from his desk lamp. Maybe he should just hide it somewhere really obvious, somewhere she'll be bound to stumble across in the next week. Decision made, problem solved. Naomi had called earlier that night to wish him a happy Thanksgiving; she sounded relaxed, happy to be home around family.

He loved her. He wanted to be her family too. Right?

Lost in his thoughts of doubt and self-loathing, Sam almost misses the soft knocking outside the door. Stuffing the ring inside his pajama pocket, he shuffles to unlock it, sneaking a quick glance at the clock. 12:34 (_make a wish!_)

Possible visitors are lazily floating through his mind, when Addison's quiet voice calling out Naomi's name floats in from the other side. He opens the door to find her decked out in evening wear, arms crossed over her chest for warmth and her breath coming out in short little anxious puffs.

"Sam, hi. It's late, but I was just… Naomi? Is she here?"

"No," he says, grabbing her wrist to pull her in from the cold, "she's home for the weekend, remember?"

"Oh," Addison mumbles, her face falling. "Right. God. I… It's so late, Sam, I'm sorry. I'll just go."

"Wait," he says, leaning against the door before she can breeze back through it. "How did you get here?"

"I walked."

"You…_ walked_? Addison, what – " He rubs the last little bit of sleep out of his eyes, and tries to keep himself from imagining worst case scenarios of wandering the city street in the middle of the night. "What the hell were you thinking? What's going on?"

"Don't yell at me! I've gotten enough of that for one night," Addison whines petulantly, her eyes crinkling in the corners, red from either crying or alcohol he finally notices, so this can't be good. Sighing, Sam gently guides her onto the couch before taking a seat next to her.

"I'm sorry. Look, I can be Naomi, tell me what happened," he pries, as she sinks further down into the cushions and kicks off her heels.

"You can't be Naomi."

"Yes, I can."

"You'll suck at being Naomi. Plus, you're…. you're Derek's friend so you'll just take his side."

"Ah," Sam nods, the pieces falling into place as he refrains from pointing out that he met Addison first, so _really_… but that's irrelevant. "It's a Derek thing."

"Don't do that," she snaps back. "Don't say it like that, like it makes it less important. And it's not a Derek thing because he didn't do anything wrong, it's not his fault I'm too fucked up to just get over everything and say _yes_, it's my fault, I'm the coward, I'm the one who's going to screw it up, so – "

"Say yes to what?"

She glares at him. The velvet box in his pocket suddenly becomes much heavier (Derek Shepherd would beat him to it. Cocky bastard.). "Oh."

Addison pulls her knees up to her chest and buries her face in them. "There is something seriously wrong with me."

"You said no?"

"I said maybe. Or I'd think about it, I don't remember, it was very awkward and his mom kept glaring at me."

Sam can't help a snort from slipping out of his mouth, which earns him a kick on the ankle. "He proposed in front of his mother?"

"It was Thanksgiving!" she protests, throwing her hands up wildly in the air. "We were at this beautiful restaurant and he had this speech all planned out and I just _sat _there like an _idiot_ and then after we left his mother, who by the way hates me now more than ever, at the train station on the car ride home we got into this huge fight and I said why do we have to rush into anything and he said it's not rushing in, it's been two years, but what does _two years_ have anything to do with it compared to _forever_…"

Sam feels like he should be interjecting with advice and encouragement but really, she makes a good point. "So… are you two…"

"I don't know. He dropped me back home and drove to Mark's." Addison's head falls onto his shoulder as she runs out of steam, and Sam instinctively grabs her hands from where it's laying dejectedly on her lap. "I've actually ruined this, haven't I?"

"Alright," Sam decides with a sigh, and untangles his fingers from Addison's long enough to reach into his pocket and throw the box onto the table. Her head tilts up from its resting place and she stares at it, eyes wide.

"Oh good God, not you too."

"Shut up," he says, nudging her. "I'm making a point. I've been carrying this around since… June, I guess. And there have been moments, great moments, when I could have asked her and didn't. If Naomi was here, she'd probably give you some great words about love and romance and commitment, and I might suck at doing that, but I can tell you that… you're not the only one who's scared."

They sit in silence for a few second, Addison's gaze flitting back and forth from Sam's face to the ring. It's nice to tell someone. He's been keeping it to himself out of fear that Naomi might find out too soon (that he might be forced into asking her too soon, making it too real) but this was nice, to let it go, even if nothing is said.

"Naomi," Addison starts slowly, "She'll say yes. Her parents are together, and happy. She'll say yes because she knows what it's like when it works out. But your dad left, and the Captain and Bizzy are… miserable. We know how bad it can get when it doesn't. So yeah. We're scared."

"I'm pretty sure that makes us sort of pathetic."

"Yes," she agrees amicably. "It's does." Addison stands up, balancing herself against the arm of the couch and she slips her shoes back on. "I'm sorry I woke you up, I'm gonna go."

"You're not walking back," Sam protests, "and I know you're not calling Derek. So just stay here."

"Sam –"

"No arguments," he retorts sternly. If Derek Shepherd can run and hide because he got his feelings hurt, then so can she. Plus, if he's completely honest, it'll be nice to spend at least some of the holiday weekend with someone. "You're staying, let me go find you some pajamas."

"I was just going to say thanks," she points out, grinning a bit despite the horrible night and uncomfortable days ahead.

"Thank me by staying on your side of the bed. And no hogging the covers."


End file.
